


Thinking of You

by Hansotsi (Karmula)



Series: Hanna Week 2014 [4]
Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, F/M, Hanna Week (Disney), Implied/Referenced Cheating, Light Dom/sub, Minor Anna/Kristoff (Disney), Ownership, Period-Typical Sexism, Possessive Behavior, Sailing, Sexist Language, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2020-12-13 22:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21005105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmula/pseuds/Hansotsi
Summary: AU based on unused Frozen concept art in which Hans is an admiral and continues sailing once he and Anna are married. But Anna remains as feisty and flighty as ever, her latest distraction presenting itself in the form of a burly deckhand from the mountains named Kristoff...





	Thinking of You

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Hanna Week Day IV, 2014, inspired by the prompt "Admiral Westergard." Edited and reuploaded in 2019.

It was a pleasant, mild-weathered day, the sun glimmering brokenly on the dark teal sea, the waves undulating lazily, fragmenting the golden light. Anna stood on deck, the frills of her feminine white sundress whipping around her in the cool breeze, gazing out to sea. She inhaled deeply, breathing in the refreshing salt air. Overhead, seagulls squawked, the rhythmic splashing of the water against the wooden hull below punctuated by the shouts of men and thudding as heavy crates were loaded onto the ship.

In front of her, two scrawny deckhands were struggling with a crate, filled to bursting with Arendelle’s finest tradable goods, and Anna had to suppress a giggle. They just looked so ridiculous.

Then a large, blonde man swooped to the rescue, hefting the weight easily in his arms, his biceps bulging. Anna found herself staring, slack-jawed and practically salivating at the sight of his huge muscles, glistening with briny sea spray and sweat, kissed by the golden sun.

A broad, gloved hand landed on Anna’s shoulder, and she started.

“Hello, Admiral Westergard,” she greeted distractedly, the hint of a smile in her voice. She turned to look over her shoulder into her husband’s green eyes, jerking her thumb in the direction of the burly deckhand. “Who’s _that_?”

"Just a deckhand,” Hans replied dismissively, before grinning wickedly and wrapping his arms around the strawberry blonde’s waist. “But _I’m_ not just a deckhand.” Hans pressed his warm, soft lips to Anna’s hungrily, twisting his tongue inside to explore her further.

She pulled away with a soft _pop_ and turned back around to glance at the blonde.

"What’s his name?”

“Oh, I don’t know, Kristopher – something like that,” Hans answered exasperatedly. “Wait – Kristoff. He used to be an ice harvester, up on the North Mountain. Why does it matter?”

“Wow, an ice harvester,” she murmured in a hushed tone, still admiring the blonde’s rugged physique. “Cutting through that thick ice all day… That would explain it.”

“Explain what?” Hans asked gruffly, trying to hold his squirming wife still as she craned her neck to get a better look at the burly mountain man.

“The, uh, nothing!” Anna covered quickly, turning back around and slipping her arms around Hans’s neck. “Nothing at all. Now, where were we?”

Rising on her toes, Anna closed her eyes, awaiting the kiss she was sure was coming, any moment now…

Nothing.

Frowning, she opened her eyes. Hans glared down at her. “_What?_”

“What do _you_ think?” Hans asked bitterly, withdrawing his arms from around her and folding them across his chest, epaulettes fluttering with the movement.

“You’re practically _drooling_ over some peasant ice harvester right in front of me! _Me_ – your husband, the King, the–” Hans spluttered, flailing his arms in the direction of his pointed black admiral’s hat. “The _admiral!_”

"Oh, come _on_, Hans! Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Hans said nothing, lips pressed into a firm, immovable line as he clenched his jaw.

"Oh – _Hans!_” Anna laughed, kissing his unresponsive mouth before pulling away to examine his reaction. Nothing. “You know what? Fine. _Fine!_” She turned on her heel, throwing her hands up in the air in an exaggerated gesture of defeat, hearing him huff behind her.

“He wants to be jealous? Fine. I’ll give him something to be jealous about,” she growled under her breath once he was out of earshot.

* * *

“Hi!”

“Hi – hi, me? Oh, um, hi!” Kristoff stuttered, stumbling and almost dropping the crate he was loading onto the ship, but managing to steady himself at the last moment.

“I’m Anna – I mean, Queen Anna. Of Arendelle, obviously.”

Anna shuffled closer, watching with interest as Kristoff turned around, stacking the crate – well, wherever he was stacking it. Anna wasn’t paying much attention. She was far too distracted by the rippling of the muscles of his back, visible even through his clothing. A little shiver ran down her spine at the sight, and her breath hitched in her throat.

He whirled around – _Damn,_ Anna thought – and dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty!”

Anna giggled, getting to her knees beside him and laying her hand gently across his forearm. “There’s no need for that!”

Embarrassed, the blonde stood up, and Anna followed suit, giggling.

_ “So," _ Anna murmured, skimming her fingers against his warm skin and squeezing lightly. He just felt so _good_…

Perched on the prow of the ship, from which he had an excellent vantage point of the entire vessel, Hans glared, narrowing his eyes at the sight. A cool breeze carried across his wife’s lilting, flirtatious laughter, and he felt a lump rise in the pit of his stomach at the sound, a dead weight, like an anchor. Bile rose in his throat, and he swallowed it back, wishing he could erase the acidic taste from his tongue. He could _feel_ the jealousy, like poison, in every fibre of his being - and a sharp pain in his left hand.

He unclenched it, his fingers stiff, and, upon seeing the wide half-moons bit into the palm of his glove, he gritted his teeth. Hans watched as Anna stood on her tiptoes, her pretty pink lips moving against the blonde’s ear as she whispered into it, a self-satisfied smile on her face. The man’s eyes widened momentarily in shock before he grinned, leaning over himself to whisper back. She was all _over_ him, the _slut, _the disobedient, ungrateful, disloyal _bitch _–

Then, a slow smirk spread across his face, and he laughed.

What did you do with a disobedient bitch?

You taught them a lesson.

* * *

Giggling and slightly dizzy, Anna pushed the door of the cabin open.

“Hans?” she called, leaning one hand against the doorframe for support. The four-poster bed sprawled against the far wall was immaculately made, despite the time of night, and candles glowed in several golden, tri-pronged candelabras on the nightstand, illuminating every piece of ornately carved and brightly polished piece of furniture in the room. But Hans was nowhere to be seen.

"Hans? I’m going back up to the palace now! Aren’t you going to say goodnight?”

Anna stepped forward cautiously. “Hans?”

Behind her, the door slammed shut. She whirled around, resisting the urge to clamp her hands over her ears, to see her husband looming in front of the doorway, drumming his fingers on the wood, eyes dark and narrowed to a slant. He was still dressed in his admiral’s uniform, the navy blue of his coat almost black in the light, the gold of the buttons and epaulettes shining faintly. On top of his head, his admiral’s hat was cocked at a jaunty angle - but the expression on his face was anything but jaunty. The skin of his face was stretched tightly, and ashen aside from his flaming cheeks, his eyebrows furrowed in a frown and his lips curled back over his teeth in a sneer.

“It’s a bit late to be calling, isn’t it, Anna?” he drawled, eyes glinting with malice in the gloom.

“Don’t_ tell_ me you’re still upset,” Anna whined, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms tightly, swaying a little on her feet.

"Oh no, of course not. Why should I be?”

Anna sighed, relieved. “Exactly. I–”

“I mean, I have no reason to be. It’s not as if you deliberately put on a show for me today, just to stir up trouble, is it? It’s not as if you went below deck to the crew’s quarters tonight and put on a little show for the mountain man, too, is it?”

“What? No, of course not! Hans, I–”

“Of course not, she says. Don’t lie to_me__, _Anna!” Hans yelled, pounding his fist against the door. “I can see right through you and your lies, you scheming, treacherous _wench!_ Did you let him defile you? Did you moan as he slipped inside of you? Did you _scream his name?_”

"Hans, please!” Anna begged, frightened, backing away. She had never seen her husband like this, never so far in their six months of marriage. “Of course not, I didn’t – we didn’t _do _anything, I promise–”

"Liar! I can smell him on you!” he shouted, slamming his tightly clenched fist against the door again, and the wood splintered at the contact. Anna gasped, stumbling backwards.

“We didn’t – we just fooled around a little, but not – I only wanted to make you jealous, I’m _sorry_–”

"Who are you thinking about?” Hans interrupted, his tone suddenly soft, dangerous. Anna swallowed, trying to fight the images that barraged her mind unbidden at the prompt: Kristoff, eyes wide as she whispered lovely, dirty, naughty things into his ear. Kristoff, hefting heavy loads in his arms, flexing his muscles. _Kristoff._

“Kristoff,” she breathed, deciding it was better to tell the truth than to lie. Hans could see through any facade, no matter how strong – and besides, hers was always, without fail, weak, watery, translucent. She couldn’t lie.

Pinching the impeccably white material at his fingers, Hans removed his gloves slowly, sensually, one at a time, and stepped forward, the floorboards creaking beneath him. He slipped a hand beneath Anna’s chin to cup it and kissed her long, slow, deep, tongue probing her mouth.

He pulled away from the bruising kiss, and, staring directly into her wide blue eyes, asked: “_Who_ are you thinking about?”

Warm, golden-blonde hair. Broad, well-muscled shoulders.

“Kristoff,” she repeated, half because it was true, and half to goad from him another one of those knee-buckling, heart-stopping kisses. 

Her husband growled, circling his arm around her waist and pressing her tight against him as he kissed her again. He spun her around, pinning her against the wall of the cabin, never once breaking the kiss. Hitching her legs around his waist, he pushed her higher, tilting his head back to keep their lips connected.

Melting, chocolate-brown eyes. A large, gumdrop-shaped nose. Large, gloved hands and a wine-coloured cravat… wait, what?…

“Now?” Hans growled, moving his lips southward, first skimming them over her jaw, then nipping and pulling at her neck. With one hand, he yanked up her skirts, hiking them to her waist and holding them there with one knee as he leaned against the wall for support.

“Kristoff,” she moaned, teasing, lying completely now as new images invaded her mind. Hans, shrugging off his admiral’s jacket by the light of the moon on their first journey aboard ship together. Hans, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, into the crook of her neck, the dip of her navel, the dimples in her back at the bottom of her spine. Hans, completely, utterly, truly – always, Hans.

She had been foolish to ever think otherwise. Who could know her as well, love her as truly, fill her as fully?

The answer was plain.

No one.

With one hand, Hans skilfully unbuckled his breeches, pulling them down to his mid-thigh and baring his growing erection. “_Now?_“ he repeated, taking his manhood into his hand and aligning it with Anna’s entrance.

"Kris – _Hans!” s_he cried out as he plunged inside of her, angling himself to hit the sweet spot he had memorised, filling her perfectly. She bobbed up and down against the wall, wood chafing at her back as she slid along his length from root to tip, her inner walls contracting around him. 

"Me?” he smirked, thrusting harder. She clawed at his clothed back with one hand, tangling the other in his auburn locks.

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” she joked in a breathy voice that hitched as he entered her once again. Then, at his scowl: “I mean, _admiral _– Admiral Westergard, sir!”

"You’re thinking of me?” Hans asked, unsure, as he brushed his lips across her bare shoulder, her breath stuttering.

“Yes, God, yes – _oh_–”

"Then say my name.”

Hans quickened his pace, slamming inside of her with a ferocity he had never once before displayed during their lovemaking, which was generally tender, slow, sweet. He dragged his teeth across the freckled flesh of Anna’s shoulder, and she cried out.

“Huh? Ah, oh - _ungh!_“ Anna moaned incomprehensibly as Hans bit her, leaving behind small toothmarks, his admiral’s hat askew on his head.

"Say. My. Name. Anna,” he ordered, his voice commanding, both his voice and his actions as he rammed into her soaking cunt leaving no other option. 

“_Hans!_” she screamed, her throat raw and aching as she reached a pitch, a volume she had never reached before, not caring who heard as she reached her climax, both their bodies rocking with the strength of it.

Hans reached his own high moments after she did, his warm royal seed spilling out inside of her and trickling down her inner thigh. Anna clung to him weakly, spent, her eyelids already fluttering closed.

"Hans,” she murmured, sliding down the wall. He caught her easily, bundling her against his chest like an infant. Her hair stuck up in strange places all over her head, wild with the static electricity that charged the air. Her skin was sticky with a faint sheen of sweat, she was flushed a blotchy, unappealing pink; Hans thought she had never looked more beautiful, and in that moment, he felt so _close _to her, to this sleeping angel he held so delicately in his arms, that he could forget all about the betrayal, about – he spat the word in his mind – _Kristoff. _

Because he knew, as he stared down at her, that even when she was asleep, blind to the whole world – she was thinking of him.


End file.
